


The First Time Now I Come Alive

by transfixeddream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/pseuds/transfixeddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester's had a lot of first times in his life.</p><p>Also posted <a href="http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/86025.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time Now I Come Alive

The first time Sam gets kissed, he's twelve. Dad's working a case in Dover, Ohio, and Sam and Dean have to be the new kids at a new school again, the third time in two months. He gets invited to one of his classmates' birthdays--Jeremy Milton, but that doesn't really matter. He's barely been in school for a week at that point, and he knows he only got invited because Jeremy's mom made him give invitations to his entire class, weird new kid included.

It's a typical birthday party, not that he's seen all that many, mind you, but there's cake and ice cream and screaming kids and a piñata. Dean shoplifts a toy truck from the local store and Sam wraps it up, brings it with him when he goes, and ends up smiling awkwardly when Jeremy talks about how awesome it is.

Jeremy's mom doesn't pay attention to them once the party moves from the yard to inside the house. They go down to the basement to play games and somehow, Sam ends up locked in a closet with a girl. He doesn't even know her name, just knows that she sits a couple rows ahead of him in class so her last name probably starts with an L or an M.

She's nervous, and he is, too, but he doesn't think she's nervous because they have to kiss. No, she seems more than nervous--she's scared. Scared of the dark, probably, and Sam thinks to himself that she should be scared of it, should be careful out in the world. He doesn't tell her any of that, just says, _Hey, look. All we gotta do is do it, 'n then they'll let us out, okay?_

She nods, and then they lean in, noses getting in the way until they don't, and they kiss; a peck on the lips and then they're both pulling away, relieved. It's nothing like he's seen Dean do with girls, all tongue and spit and roaming hands, but Sam thinks it still counts. _Okay, guys, we did it, let us out now,_ Sam calls.

There's giggling on the other side, but nobody moves to open the door. Sam finds the knob in the dark, twists it left and right frantically, except it's still locked and won't budge an inch.

The girl starts crying then, long sobs that drag on and on, and Sam pounds on the door with his fists. He silently wishes Dad or Dean were stuck in here with him instead of the crying girl, because they've had enough practice at breaking down doors. As it is, Sam's trapped in the tiny, black closet with a crying girl and his eyes start to tear up, too.

When it finally opens, it's Jeremy's mother looking frantic, and she ignores Sam in order to comfort the crying girl. Before Sam steps out of the closet, he wipes at his own eyes.

Dean picks him up and Jeremy's mom tells him what happened, and he acts like the kind and considerate brother he's supposed to be. He gives Sam shit once he's in the car, though, laughing, _Man, Sammy, didn't know you had it in ya. You slip her the tongue?_

Sam's cheeks heat up and he stares out the window, mutters under his breath, _Fuck you, Dean._

And that's another first.

*

Sam's thirteen when he starts masturbating. It's been building up for a while, dick going hard between his legs at weird times, and sometimes Dean sees it. Sometimes he laughs at Sam, sometimes he just smirks, but Sam's angry at his body for the way it's starting to behave.

Maybe if he had any other brother Sam wouldn't already know what to do, but he's seen Dean do it a thousand times, quick pumps under the blanket that hides everything from Sam's view. Still, Sam's accidentally walked in on Dean more than once, saw with his own eyes just what his brother was doing before Dean managed to cover up and shout, _For fuck sakes, Sam!_

He's heard Dean call it everything from _beating off_ to _spanking the monkey_ , more often than not with a smirk and a crude hand gesture that tells Sam all he needs to know, if he hadn't caught on already.

So yeah, Sam gets it.

He gets one of Dean's issues of _Playboy_ , a small collection of nude women that grows each time Dean's feeling particularly plucky enough to snatch one from a convenience store. Sam already knows where Dean hides 'em: under the motel mattress because it's one of the only places Dad doesn't look when he gets back from hunts, like Dad doesn't already know his oldest son thinks about sex constantly now.

Sam jacks off looking at the glossy pictures, biting on his lip to stifle the moans he wants to release, because Dean's just in the shower and he's always got an ear open for Sam. He flips to the center, because Dean's always raving about that when he's trying to gross Sam out, saying how she's always the best: _Good ol' Hugh, sure knows how to pick 'em._ Sam comes in his hand, doesn't really take time to question the warm texture in his palm before wiping it away with some Kleenex and tossing it in the garbage can.

The magazine's back where Sam found it by the time Dean comes out of the shower, hair wet and towel wrapped around his waist. He sniffs the air, twists his mouth into a small frown, before shrugging it off and heading to his duffle.

*

Sam figures out twenty-two months after what he thought counted as his first kiss, really wasn't one. He's a couple months over fourteen and it's another birthday party, funnily enough. Only it's a girl's birthday; her name's Allison, she has short black hair and blue eyes, and Sam thinks she's pretty. It doesn't make any sense for her to invite Sam, because she's a whole year ahead of him and he only found out her name from the birthday invitation one of her friends gave him. Still, he goes, because Sam's the kind of guy who doesn't want to disappoint people. Doesn't really wanna be like Dad.

He has no idea what to get a fifteen year old girl for her birthday, so he steals a fifty from Dean and stuffs it into a card and envelope. Dean finds out what he did within five minutes, thumbing through his wallet before walking over to Sam and slapping the back of his head. He mutters something Sam can't make out, but he doesn't ask for the money back, either.

Allison greets him when Dean drops him off, takes the card from the end that Sam's holding it from, her fingers brushing over his palm while she says, _I'm really glad you could make it, Sam._

Sam looks back at Dean, takes in his brother's raised eyebrow as Dean smirks at Sam. Dean hits the wheel with his palm and then backs out, rolling down the highway at a speed that breaks every law in the bumfuck little town they're in. Then Sam turns back to Allison, who's grinning shyly, and smiles back.

The party ends at five, everybody cleared out by five-thirty, but Sam had told Dean to pick him up at six. The invitation said six.

Allison shrugs apologetically, says, _We can wait up in my room if you want. I have a Nintendo._

He follows her up and sits down on the floor, back resting against the bed. He picks up one of her controllers and asks, _What games do you have?_ as he looks up at her. She looks surprised for a second, then settles into a smile as she brings herself down on Sam's legs until she's wrapped around his waist. Sam's never had a girl on him before. He's had Dean, when Dad makes them practice fighting, but this is new, and his dick is already filling with blood at the feel of Allison against him.

 _I was thinking,_ she says, her mouth so very close to his, _that we could play a different game._

Sam kisses her then, jumps in blind because he's not sure what else to do. It proves to be the right thing, because she kisses back, arms coming up to wrap loosely around him, one hand hanging limp off his shoulder while the other combs the back of his hair. Sam's never done this, either, and his hands settle somewhere along her ribcage. Tongue comes next, and Sam thinks Allison tastes sweet, like strawberry ice cream and chocolate cake, like the new bubblegum lip-gloss she'd put on immediately after opening it a few hours ago.

She squirms a little in his lap, and then she pulls her hands back and wraps one each around his wrists, guides his own hands until his palms are brushing over her breasts. Sam gets the message, squeezes at them gently as she rocks into him.

He feels like he's seconds away from loosing it in his jeans, but then, _Allison! Tell Sam his brother's here to pick him up,_ is echoing through the room and they both back off like they've been burned.

 _I'll see you later, Sam,_ Allison says as he's exiting her room. She kisses him one last time, and then Sam's hurrying down the stairs and hoping his erection isn't visible to Dean or, God forbid, Allison's mother.

 _Looking a little red there, Sammy,_ Dean says as he enters the car. He's smirking, which is Dean's default expression lately, and he smells like smoke.

 _Shut up,_ Sam says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He still tastes bubblegum lip-gloss.

*

In Clarksdale, Mississippi, Sam gets his first girlfriend. Dean mocks him endlessly for it, refers to her as _Sammy's sweet little girl,_ but only when it's just Sam and him. When Melissa is around, Dean shuts his trap, preferring to smirk at Sam over the book he's pretending to read.

Sam's not sure there's a point to girlfriends when you're fifteen. It seems mostly a social thing; people can say they're taken, and that means somebody wanted them enough to do that, which means you're not a total loser. That's what he thinks; he doesn't really get it beyond that.

Sometimes, he and Melissa will kiss. Not often, because if Melissa comes over to study after school, Dean seats himself in the motel room and doesn't go anywhere. Doesn't even go to the bathroom, just sits there and delights in the awkwardness that is Sam at fifteen, mere months away from a possibly even more awkward sixteen. They don't go anywhere for the same reason; Dean has to drive them and then he just watches them. Sam wants to punch Dean, not because he wants to do things with Melissa, not really, but because Dean is making sure he couldn't, even if he wanted.

Melissa's parents go away the same weekend that is Sam's last in Clarksdale. He figures he owes it to her, since they're dating, or whatever, so he tells her Saturday night when they're studying for a math test. Sam doesn't actually have to worry about it since he won't be here come Monday, but he helps her study regardless.

Afterwards, they sit on her bed and she touches Sam. Touches his crotch and presses down, and Sam's eyes snap down, then back up in surprise. _Please,_ she says, and Sam's not really sure what she's asking for but he nods anyway.

She takes him out of his jeans and runs her hand down his dick, and it feels weird--different--than when he does it to himself. It's stumbling strokes and it's obvious she's never touched a penis before, in the same way that Sam's never had his touched before. But she kisses him hard and follows him down when he lies down on the bed. He gets off while tasting her lips, shooting into her hand, and some of his come gets on his shirt. Some gets on hers, too.

He changes positions, lets her get on her back, then he pulls down her pants and presses his palm to her. He wishes he knew what to do, wishes he paid more attention to the motel porn he jacked off to instead of just on the release of orgasm, but he does his best with what he's got. He rocks up a little, a slow push, and watches her reaction. _Is this okay?_ he asks, and she nods.

He breaks a couple of firsts that night.

*

He's barely sixteen, few weeks since his birthday, when Sam first figures out that maybe he's into guys, at least as much as he's into girls. He's supposed to be sleeping--Dean definitely thinks he is--and he is, until the chick Dean takes back from the bar proves to be loud. Sam wakes up half way through the sex and watches, wide-eyed, as Dean fucks into her, grunting harshly, one hand rubbing between her legs, just above where his dick's sliding in and out. The girl comes first and screams loud, and Dean quickly glances over at Sam, and Sam snaps his eyes shut before Dean can catch him.

 _Come on, baby,_ the girl's saying then. Sam opens his eyes again and studies her for a brief moment; she's pretty, but she looks a lot older than Dean. Near thirty, has to be. _Want you to come all over me._

Dean's thrusting slows and Sam watches his brother's face, because, it's just. There's no way Dean's going to... do _that_. Sam watches, though, as Dean goes from slack-jawed to smirking, and then he's nodding and pulling out. He rips off the condom and then climbs up and over her, slips a knee on either side of her waist and supports himself with one hand. He jacks off, messy and hard, rough tugs of his dick, and the tent in Sam's underwear gets harder.

Swallowing, Sam slides his hand under the elastic and grips himself firmly, jerking himself to the same rhythm as Dean. He keeps watching Dean's dick, though; can't even bring himself to look at the girl when there's that for his eyes instead. Even though Dean's been building his up for a while, watching Dean's cock, thick and hard, head flushed and shiny with sex, slipping through Dean's fist--Sam comes in his pants after a couple dozen quick pulls.

He ignores the stickiness and keeps watching until Dean's head knocks back and he groans, low and guttural, as his balls empty. Sam's dick jerks once more.

Sam shuts his eyes, and he's asleep before Dean sees the girl out.

*

Her name is Elizabeth--Beth for short--and she's the first girl who blows him. She gets down on her knees, between his legs, while they're alone in the motel room. Dean is somewhere, Sam can't remember where exactly, just, somewhere that isn't here.

She sucks him hard, uses her tongue to work his underside, gives a lot of attention to the head of his dick before taking him down. She uses her hand for what she can't reach, her other hand cupping his balls and rolling them. It's sloppy and wet and it is, without a doubt, the best thing Sam has ever felt. His own hands are fists, one trapped in her hair, holding it back because once he saw Dean do that for a girl, the other with a ball of cheap motel bed sheets in it.

Sam tugs at her hair when he's close, but she keeps going. At first, Sam thinks maybe she didn't understand, so he pulls again and Beth squeezes the base of his cock hard for it. Reluctantly, he lets her keep going until he shoots off with a shout.

She takes him through orgasm, swallowing his load and then some, sucking at the shaft and draining him completely before pulling off. She tucks him back in and says as she rises to her feet, _I've gotta get home, my parents are expecting me._ Sam nods, says back, _Yeah, my brother'll probably be back soon anyway._ She nods then kisses him, open mouth with tongue.

It's March 21, 2000, and it's the first time that Sam tastes his own come.

*

The first time Sam has sex, real sex, he's seventeen. He's sprouted up tall, matching Dean's height with a potential to grow even more, and he's all long, thin, dangly limbs. He feels awkward in his body, but somehow he still ends up being the object of Tricia Gilbert's affections, at least, that's what Davey Henderson calls it. Sam's not so sure.

In all honesty, Tricia is more Dean's type than Sam's; long, blonde hair and full lips that are always painted red. She's a preacher's daughter, and she fills every stereotype ever written about 'em. Sam learns that when she smiles at him and pulls him into a dark classroom at school, presses up against him and whispers filth in his ear. She runs her hand along the outline of his already hard dick, because he's a teenager and getting hard is as simple as breathing to him.

 _Want you to fuck me, Sam,_ she says, all soft, dirty words, and Sam groans in response. _Want you to fuck me against a wall, Sam. Hard. I want it hard, Sam._ He's noticed that about her, the way she always ends sentences with the name of who they're directed to. And his name sounds good on her lips, so all he can say is, _Yes, yeah, right._

She smirks then, pops his button and reaches her hand in. His dick is the one thing he's not self-conscious about; he knows he's got a good size, maybe even bigger now that it's grown more along with the rest of him. Tricia jerks him off fast and rough, like she's had practice, and Sam sputters into her touch until he's wrung out. She pulls her hand out and licks it clean, keeps eye contact until her palm is just glistening with spit. She says, _After school, Sam. Want it after school, Sam,_ and then she leaves.

Dean comes to pick him up, and Sam's palms are sweaty as he makes up bullshit that Dean doesn't buy. His brother must sense something, though, because finally he says, _Sure, whatever. Just makes sure you're back to the motel by six, man. Dad'll have a fit._

Later, Sam's got a condom on and he's pushing into Tricia. They're on a back road in Oklahoma, off to the side, and Sam's sinking into her as she squirms against the backseat. His hair is hanging sweaty in his eyes and she's tight all around him, and he knows now that she wasn't lying about this.

 _Come on, Sam,_ she says finally, when he's deep inside. _Fuck me with your big cock, Sam,_ she says, and then he pulls back and pushes back in. She swears, horrible curses that her dad would disown her for, each time following it up with _Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam,_ like the best prayer he's ever heard. He fucks her to it, lets his gasps and moans join hers, doesn't say anything apart from _oh._ He fucks her, but not hard like she wanted, because it still hurts for her, no matter what she tries to say; he's seen Dean deny when he's in pain enough to know when somebody's trying to pretend otherwise.

It's not long before his balls draw up and he spills into the latex. He pulls out, ties the condom and tosses it and its wrapper in the ditch. Tricia hikes up her panties and her jeans, drops him off at the motel with a simple, _Goodbye, Sam._ Dean looks up from the knife he's sharpening, but doesn't say anything for once.

Two days later he hears via Matthew Weatherly that Chad Johnson's been bragging about getting head from Tricia Gilbert. Sam listens and shrugs it off. Not like it matters much either way; they're leaving in three days.

*

He's still seventeen, closer to eighteen now, though, when he first tastes a girl.

It's probably weird, Sam thinks. It's probably weird that despite no longer being a virgin, that this, right here, is the first time he's ever gone down on a chick. He's had sex a couple of times, got sucked off even more than that, but Cathy Roberts' legs spread wide, his mouth pressed against her and his tongue sliding between her wet folds--this is new.

Cathy knows, had dug it out of him and laughed off his sheepish smile after they'd fucked, said, _Well, we can fix that right now if you'd like._

Sam pulls back a little, slides his finger inside her tight heat and twists it. Cathy moans, her hand rubbing incessantly at her clit, and Sam runs his tongue along it, slicking Cathy's clit and fingers with spit. He adds another finger, then trails his tongue down to slide with his fingers.

Eventually, he pulls his fingers free and sucks them into his mouth, tastes her flavor on his tongue again. He's like a druggie getting a fix right then; he pushes her thighs further apart and presses his face against her. He runs the flat of his tongue across her cunt, licking his way inside. Cathy's thighs threaten to close and he lets them go, relishes in the squeeze of them around his head as he delves in more, eats her out. His dick is hard again between his legs, a thick fullness to remind him needlessly that Cathy's not the only one enjoying this.

He tries something Dean had mentioned years ago, back when he used sex as a weapon to make Sam blush and sputter. _Make sure you always know your ABCs, Sammy. Never know when it'll come in handy._ The way Cathy groans and pushes back on his tongue, he thinks Dean had a point. Briefly, he wonders if this how Dean does it. If he still uses this trick when he's tongue-deep in a girl. His cock throbs harder, and Sam slips one hand down to rub the head.

When he's done, his chin, lips and cheeks are covered in her juices, and she smiles and pulls him in close, licks his face clean. It makes his cock jerk up harder, and he covers himself with another condom and sinks back into her.

*

He's at Stanford by the time he realizes there's something he's never done. He hasn't been here long, just a couple of months, and he's spent those keeping busy and making sure he knows what he's doing, what he's getting himself into. People have asked him occasionally to head out to bars with them, student ones he can get into, but Sam's turned them down every time. Every time until tonight.

There's a bottle of beer in his hand, half full--it's a wonder what a fake ID and a couple inches over the tallest guy in the place can get you--and he feels good. Happier and more content than he's felt since Dad kicked him to the curb and Dean watched, silent. He swallows, drains the last half of his beer in one drink.

Sam heads back to the bar, signals the bartender for another, when a hand falls on his arm. He looks, swallows hard at shining green eyes, freckles and too-blond hair. _Hey,_ the guy says, conversationally, _what're you drinkin'?_ He licks his lips, eyes casting down to scan Sam's body, and Sam should tell him to piss the hell off.

 _Tap, but I could go for some tequila,_ he says instead, and the guy grins. Sam doesn't ask for his name, just plants himself on the barstool, grins back, and downs the alcohol when it comes. Let's himself enjoy the ride to the main event.

Sam's fingers twist into the guys hair sometime later, trying to scrape at his scalp but he's only getting thick locks instead. The guy bobs on Sam's cock, and it's obvious he's done this before; many times before, with how easy he sucks Sam down to the root, opening his throat for Sam's cock. Spit is slicking down Sam's balls, and the guy's knees are probably sore from the rough ground, but he says nothing, pushes his dick a little firmer into the guy. From the darkness of the alley and the alcohol in Sam's system, the guy's hair can pass for a familiar brown.

He thinks that Dean's probably good at this, maybe even better than this guy right here. There's no proof in the theory--Sam's never seen Dean even show mild interest in anything that doesn't have a nice set of tits--but he thinks it all the same. Sam knocks his head back against the building's wall, imagines it's his brother on his knees in this alley, opening up for Sam's dick, sucking him down greedily. Sam doesn't have time to give a warning, just shoots down the guy's throat while his own throat feels raw.

The guy pulls off with a wet sound, stands up and Sam shoves a hand down the front of his pants and jerks him off roughly, because it's only polite, and lets the guy suck at his throat. Sam tries not to, but he can't help himself; he pretends that it's Dean's stubble scratching at his neck, until the guy hisses against Sam's skin and comes.

 _Thanks,_ Sam says, after a short moment, and the guy nods, says with a smirk, _No problem,_ then tucks himself in and heads back into the bar.

Sam's eighteen, it's a Saturday in January, and for the first time he realizes just how fucked up he is.


End file.
